All Done and Dusted
by superstarultra
Summary: All alone in his deep and spotless factory, the only small comfort Dust Man had was that he could make everything around him clean and pure. Rated T for some violence.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Mega Man or any of its characters or spin-off games. This was made for entertainment purposes only and not for profit. So there you go.**

**A/N: So I've been replaying the games of Mega Man Anniversary Collection, and started the task of redoing 4. I came to Dust Man's stage and despite the atmosphere, didn't know why they bothered to make Dust Man as a Robot Master. He just seemed so... unintimidating. **

**Then I came up with this idea.**

**The inspiration came from a Let's Play of Mega Man 4 from the Something Awful website. In it, the guy playing made some rather unsettling remarks about Dust Man's nature. About where all the robot parts in his stage came from... **

**This fic of mine attempts to embark on that notion. Hope you enjoy it!**

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**"Clean, clean, wash it clean."

The sing-song voice carried over the piles of scrap stretching out for miles within the dank confines of the old factory. Dust Man didn't mind- he loved to sing about his work. A small radio blared nearby, spitting out a garbled mess of a jazz song.

The scrap-yard was his lair, his kingdom, his home. Dr. Cossack had given him a simple task. The task of keeping it a neat and orderly place. And Dust Man would see to it. He stood near the power stations that kept the trash compactors working, brush in hand, lightly removing any dirt that had settled into the crevices of the control panels and switches.

Taking care of this place didn't bother him that much. Mainly because the other robots felt that they were too above looking after a landfill. A landfill they called it. What nerve! Dust Man viewed his position with a sense of valor. Who else would dispose of the destruction caused by the rampages of his brothers but him? Nobody, that's who!

He knew that he wasn't as sly as Pharaoh Man, destructive as Drill man, or as intelligent as Bright Man, but Dust Man knew that he had an edge over any of them. He was much more meticulous than the lot of them put together. He could spot a grease stain from a hundred feet away; even identify what it contained. Fingerprints even. Yes, he was very good at his job. Dr. Cossack would reward him well. He wouldn't forget about him at all in this dingy, dusty, ugly factory. No, no, no, no, no.

Dust Man paused in his cleaning. The song he'd been singing died somewhere within him. Then quickly as it had gone, Dust Man went back to work, letting out a small whistle.

"The doctor likes me. He likes us all. He built me to be good. I'll be good. And clean everything. Yes, clean it all. Make it sparkle," Dust Man hummed to himself. How silly of him to even _consider _Dr. Cossack disowning him. He was his creator. His master.

His father.

Father. Dust Man liked that word.

"Father~... Make it all shine for father~..." he hummed tranquilly.

His period of peace was put to a halt as a noisy rumbling from the garbage chutes resonated throughout the factory. The daily load had arrived. Why did his brothers have to cause so much destruction around the world? Couldn't they all take a break?

He continued on his way towards the compactors. Mettaurs and other small work-bots scampered across the junk-made floor, heading for their own patrol routes. Lightly stepping over a crunched-up hovercraft, Dust Man cupped a hand over his eyes and gazed up at them. Fifteen feet tall, colored in shades of light cyan, and pumping with several volts of electricity, these compactors were the pride and joy of the factory. Dust Man climbed the stairs built into the sides of the first compactors. Pretty soon, the trash would be crushed into neat cubes that could be put to use for later.

Manning the nearby control panel, Dust Man watched as the garbage piled high from the chutes from above. In mere moments, they would be crunched down, set into cubes, and set off onto the conveyor-belts. Setting all of it up was an laborious chore, but Dust man didn't care. He had the whole thing down by memory. Twisting a dial, pressing a button, and pulling a lever, Dust Man watched as the compactors got to work. He sighed contently.

Everything was working so well right now.

"Huh? What's that?" Dust Man said, a bit of movement catching his attention. He peered over the guardrail and into the mountain of refuse.

Yes, something was definitely moving around down there. What was it? He leaned in close...

Sucking in a sharp intake or air, Dust Man stepped back as a metallic hand shot out of the pile of trash and latched onto his own. It was attached to some kind of robot. A dull purple with black and white patterns on it. Some kind of emblem on its chest. From the sound of its coughing, it was a supposed to be a male.

"Oh, t-thank you, sir! Please... Please help me... They were everywhere... Robots just attacking people and other machines... " The robot paused to unleash a hacking cough, before continuing. "I drove a train in the city. We were making good time when everything just went nuts!"

Dust man continued to look down at the curious robot as he explained what had happened in the city. He just stared down at the stranger speaking to him as if he were a something on a Petri dish. He was unsure of exactly what to do.

"Please help me! I-It... It hurts!" the bot begged. "Do you know where we are, sir?"

Dust Man froze. The machine was leaking out a pool of fuel that was pouring out over the stainless floor he had just recently cleaned up an hour ago. The weakened droid let out another powerful cough, flecks of oil dotting Dust Man's left foot and midsection.

It was quite understandable for the robotic conductor to be surprised when Dust man lashed out and grabbed him forcefully.

"What? What's Wrong? Get off of me!" yelled the squirming robot.

_Disgusting! Disgusting!_

Dust Man couldn't help but scream and back away, trying to protect himself from that hideous image. He had to get rid of it and fast before it made him dirty. Before it _contaminated _him. Ignoring the damaged mech's cries for help, his eyes darted to the table littered with items and tools.

There it was, glittering under a shaft of sunlight- a loose buzz-saw. Almost greedily, Dust Man snatched it up, making sure to keep the intruder pinned down to the ground.

"W-What are you doing to me?" The droid struggled tightly against the grip of the one he thought was going to help him. It didn't help much; Dust man's grip was like a vice around his waist. Gazing up, he saw the complete lack of emotion in Dust Man's face, and the saw-blade in his other hand.

"P-Please, no!_ NO!_"

Dust Man said nothing. Instead, he swung the blade down in an arc, the sawed teeth cutting into robot's chest. The robot cried out in pain, screaming violently. He squirmed every which way in Dust Man's grip, as how the way the worm on a fish-hook would, letting loose oil like a waterfall from his mouth, staining the polished steel below him.

_Yuck. How __sickening..._

The mech was losing it now, his eyes rolling back occasionally, his arms and legs freezing into odd positions . An anguished scream soon tore itself from deep in his throat and he struggled against the convulsions again. Dust Man watched with wide, unsympathetic eyes as sparks and metal flew through the air like confetti. Ripping it out, he brought down the blade for another strike. And then another.

It was over after in as little as two minutes.

Once the droid had stopped moving completely, Dust Man hunkered over to the slag pool. It was a fairly short jaunt. Peering over, the cleaning-robot peered over the edge. The fiery liquid bubbled like a volcano. Grunting, he tossed the mass of mangled steel over his shoulder. Taking out a washcloth from his side, Dust Man hurriedly scrubbed the remnants of oil from of his body. His erratic breathing slowed and became more relaxed.

Glancing down at the ugly thing, Dust Man wondered what it may have been like to melt in the fire. He wondered what it had looked as your vision went out, what it smelled like as the smoke entered your sensors, how it felt to have your steel be eaten away at bit by bit, piece by piece. Try as hard as he might, he couldn't gain any more information from the rapidly-disintegrating body before him.

_Oh, well, _Dust Man thought with a shrug. The filthy creature wouldn't be around to dirty his precious machinery ever again. He stuck around a bit as the fire greedily gobbled up the treat. He continued to watch, tapping his right foot and hands on his hips, until the last of droid's shoulder melted down into a yellow and orange molten sludge. Without so much as a sound, Dust Man turned and headed away.

Checking the clock made of cobbled-together bits of leftover metal hanging overhead, Dust Man smiled to himself. Break-time. There was still some things that needed a wipe-down and shining, but all of that could wait for now. Heading back to his work station, a cheerful thought crossed over into Dust Man's head.

"Oh. I know. I'll play my favorite song," he chuckled to himself, trudging over the polished metal piles and up the steps. Once there, Dust Man fiddled around with the knobs until the sound of static could be heard. Sweet classical music soon flowed out of the speakers. He moved his body to the rhythm and beat of the tunes for an hour. It seemed to last much longer for him until the clock reminded him it was time to work again.

Turning on his vacuum with a gentle whir, Dust Man began his daily chores again. Stifling a small cough from some dust molecules, he resumed humming his favorite little tune.

It was cleaning time now.

**000000**

_He _came along soon after.

Dust Man watched the blue upstart dash through his crushers, make fools of his henchmen, and avoid all his tricks and traps. After watching the pest demolish several days' worth of stacked debris, Dust Man cried out in a rage before he collected his wits.

And once _he _entered the tiny, confined room, Dust Man jumped out of hiding and into the makeshift arena to confront the minuscule nuisance himself. With his Dust Crusher at full power, Dust Man felt that it wouldn't be long before he presented Dr. Cossack with the torn and spotless body of Mega Man. How sparkling and tidy the so-called Blue Bomber's frame would look, suspended from the top of the doctor's castle, as a monument to all those who would try to oppose his creator. The very thought made him gleeful.

Unfortunately, the battle didn't go the way Dust Man predicted.

His opponent was both sly and powerful, having been seasoned up by fighting his other cohorts and taking their own weapons. Right now, Mega Man was utilizing the weapon he had acquired from Ring Man. The Ring Boomerang wasn't as destructive as the Dust Crusher, but it was still the one thing Dust Man hated and feared. Try as he might, Mega Man was much too fast for him to even get a bead on him. He jumped over his Dust Crusher as if it were nothing.

The first hit hurt, but Dust Man shrugged it off and continued fighting.

The second blow stung, but he ignored the pain in his side and tried the suction attack again.

The third got him in the back.

The fourth hit his blaster-arm.

The fifth got him in the left leg, making the act of jumping hurt.

The sixth made it harder to even fire his Dust Crusher, let alone run.

And the seventh was what brought him to a stop.

Dust Man coughed and sputtered. He already felt his right arm sliding out of its socket and collapsing uselessly to the floor. His vision was getting hazy and he hurt all over. That pain was so great that he could no longer stand- only kneel. Another Ring Boomerang came careening towards him, this time, slicing through his midsection. The pain was excruciating...

...and yet, he smiled. Dust Man couldn't help but smile. Even if he did die, his factory would still be clean. This room especially. His death would cleanse it thoroughly, the explosion taking out any garbage nearby. He was giggling now. But then again...

_Wouldn't I become trash myself? I'll make everything dirty... _he thought as his vision began to dim. ..._Oh, I have so much more work to do. But I'm so tired... I need a break anyways... I'll clean it all up later... Just for the doctor..._

Even in the ensuing explosion, Dust Man welcomed the fire.

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**A/N: It's always the quiet ones, huh? Or the not so quiet ones in this case. **

**Dust Man has one hell of a stage tune to fit his crazy personality here. His theme is both sad and creepy to listen to, and that is why I love it so much. Love the remixes of his stage just as well. His stage was always eerie to me, what with all the darkness and the pits of bubbling metal. Those blue conveyor-belts in the background look like chainsaws to me... O.o**

**Read and review, pretty please? **


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